


Of Magical Wands and Safety Helmets

by Irritus185



Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Genre: Cute Stupidity, Gen, Inevitable Starco Tease
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-25 16:14:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 14,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4967644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irritus185/pseuds/Irritus185
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a bunch of drabbles aimlessly wandering the seas of Marco and Star’s relationship. Also, minor Starco tease. If you squint hard enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pillow

When Star first heard of the concept of ‘pillow fighting,’ she was instantly enamored with it. All the fun of mortal combat – the thrill of the hunt, the forced recognition of your own mortality, the revelry of grinding your foe beneath your size six steel combat boot – without the need to clean up the bloody, squishy aftermath? (Blood and ichor was so hard to properly clean out of linen.) It was the best of both worlds!

Plus, beating the stuffing out of someone with more stuffing just tickled her funny bone. It most likely had to do with how her royal babysitters taught her the ninety-nine ways (the hundredth was too terrible for anyone one person to know, so they’d teach her that when she’d come of age and fully inherit the throne) to kill a person with her bare hands using her stuffed animals as the unfortunate victim. (She didn’t recall a single stuffed bear lasting with all of its limbs intact for more than a week during her early childhood.)

When Marco had first explained how pillow fights worked, he found the sparkly look of glee in her eyes cute instead of the appropriate balance of pants-wetting terror and existential dread. After all, as blood-thirsty as the trans-dimensional princess could be, it wasn’t like even _she_ could take something as innocuous as a _pillow_ and turn it into a weapon of mass destruction. So when Star asked him to face off against her in fluffy combat, he agreed with little apprehension.

It should be noted that by this point, Star had not even lived with his family for a month, so this lack of basic survival instinct should not be counted against him (though he should still be called naïve on general principle).

When Star greeted Marco at the door to her room in the pajama-version of full-combat regalia and armor, he brushed it off as one of her many, _many_ quirks.

When she showed that she had transformed her luxurious four-poster bed into a pillow fort with full-out buttresses, towers, portcullis, and a moat replete with miniature stuffed alligators, he started to wonder if she was taking the whole thing a wee bit too far.

When she animated all of her stuffed toys to act as her army (arming them with pillowy swords, axes, and maces), he started to grow slightly worried as a tingling feeling like fresh ice traveled down his spine.

When she made it a few words into her rousing speech about running down her foes in glorious combat (in rather visceral detail), his composure finally broke, and he bolted for the window (obviously the nearby door was a trap) and potential freedom.

Alas, for as ditzy and downright oblivious the blonde could be at times, this was the climate that she was bred, trained, and _lived_ for.

The window was nailed shut and filled with enough protective magic to stop a rampaging dragon.

She knew; she tested it out earlier that day.

What followed, as the young boy was dazed from diving headfirst into magically reinforced glass and mortar and immediately beset by a veritable wave of aggressive cotton, was chronicled as the most adorable and soft-handed rout ever achieved in both Earth’s and Mewni’s history books.

At the very least, Star’s terms for surrender were a kind and generous deal… right up until Marco smacked her in the face with a moat gator.

That’s when things got _fun._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A stupid drabble, hopefully the first of... some, to get my juices flowing so I'll actually get back to my more major story. I really enjoyed SVTFOE; I found it to be a cute show with colorful characters that was pretty solid in a lot of ways, even if it had a few weak points. Still, I'm looking forward to the new season next year, so perhaps this may tide me over. Also, enjoy it. It's pointless, simple fun.


	2. Drool

It was the mixture of early-morning monster fights, old late-night sitcoms, and cheesy nacho binges that finally defeated the intergalactic warrior princess that day.

Star sat on the couch with Marco, shoving every last sumptuous morsel of baked tortilla and artery-clogging cheese into her ravenous piehole that she could. Her shoulders and fists still ached from the truly supreme butt-kicking she and Marco had given Ludo’s fairly incompetent minions, so having a little, quiet moment like this with her best friend made her relish the event even more.

A sudden bark of laughter erupted from her as the sitcom’s primary comedic relief spouted his tired, clichéd tag line. She didn’t know why she enjoyed the show so much; even she, with her limited knowledge of Earth popular culture, could tell that the writing was hackneyed at best and the characters had less common sense than she when approaching some new novelty. Still, something about the repetitive jokes just clicked with her in some way.

Also, the one-liners were awesome.

“Ha! It was always the pineapple!”

Star slapped a hand on her leg before a long, drawn-out yawn slipped from between her lips. The audible cracking of her jaw nearly distending echoed through the mostly quiet room.

Marco favored her with a quick look away from the television. “You getting sleepy?” he mumbled through a small mouthful of nachos.

“Pshaw,” she said, flipping a hand in an off-hand manner. “Like we really did anything all that tiring today.”

The Hispanic boy raised an eyebrow. “You took out a two-story behemoth wielding only a wet-noodle.”

“Like I said, easy-peasy.” She smooshed a finger to his lips when he tried to continue. “Now, quiet! It’s nacho-TV time!” Star squealed and put her fists to her chin as the characters on the screen began talking again, one of them now wearing a bear suit (it was that kind of show). “Ooh, he’s gonna say it again!” She threw her hands up in the air as the canned laugh track hit its mark. “Yay, pineapple!”

Marco watched her for a couple more seconds, wondering where’d he gone wrong (or, well, right) when his best friend ended up being someone like Star. Sure, the princess was awesome to hang out with, and he was never wanting for a chance to put his long-trained martial art skills to the test thanks to Ludo and his goons, but he did sometimes muse on what made the two of them click so well.

After a moment’s thought, he just shrugged and turned back to the show (with the bear-suited man having recently punched out another guy in a nun habit). Eh, it wasn’t like _he_ was all that normal, anyway… or at least not so much anymore.

Several minutes passed with nothing happening except for the inane escapades on the show until Marco felt a slight pressure on his shoulder, followed by an ever increasing amount. He glanced to the side to see what it was and almost just failed keeping a blush from rising to his cheeks.

Star was leaning against him, her head just lightly resting on his shoulder. The blonde princess’s face was a peaceful and calm sight to behold, her lips slightly parted and soft breaths puffing ever so gently from between them. From how quiet and still she was, there was no doubt in the boy’s mind that she was fast asleep, the day’s events having finally caught up to her.

The possibility of it being a picturesque scene was ruined by the intermittent snorts and snores Star let out, plus the fact that she was also heavily drooling all over him. Drool, he felt compelled to mention to himself, which was clearly mixed with not a small amount of nacho cheese. Marco knew how bad cheese was to get out of clothes, especially when the household laundry was his chore. It was going to be _torture._

Marco held himself from involuntarily flinching back as the girl leaned harder into him, rubbing her face into his hoody’s sleeve and grinding even more cheese-drool into the material. The result created a bigger smear that ran from the top of his shoulder to halfway down his bicep, and left Star’s mouth and parts of her cheeks a gooey mess.

He briefly considered waking the girl up, if only to spare his clothes from any more of the atrocity, but stopped when she let out a happy sound as she rubbed her face on his sleeve again (leaving an even bigger stain on both it and her face).

Marco sighed, a ghost of a smile tracing his lips. He turned back to television and lowered the volume a little, so as not to wake Star up, before shifting the bowl of remaining nachos onto his lap. Well, what kind of friendship wasn’t worth a few hours of frantic scrubbing and muted sobbing?

Star let out a giggly snort. “Heheh, pineapple...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Add another one, a little longer than the previous. For the most part, each drabble is completely separate from the others, but there will be a couple 'arcs' of sorts. Nothing like a full-blown story, but definitely more continuity than the normal ones.


	3. Bandage

Healing Marco's broken hand had been Star's first, last, and only attempt at using healing magic on someone.

One horrific abomination replacing his arm and then (heavily implied) grafted to his very soul was enough for one lifetime for Marco.

And his broken hand hadn't even been _fixed_ at the end of it all.

It wasn't as though Marco didn't trust the magical princess with his health and safety (okay, maybe a _smidge_ ). It was more he didn't feel like putting himself underneath the handle of a magical artifact with the tendency to set anything and everything within its general vicinity on fire. Regardless of its wielder, the wand had a disturbing proclivity towards destructive ends (even the magical constructs strewed about chaos and collateral damage no matter _how_ adorable they appeared), and he doubted Mewni academia knew at all how biology worked.

Marco had seen a Mewni doctor on his parents' anniversary trip to Star's home dimension. Carpentry tools did not a surgeon make.

So, it _had_ taken some time to convince someone as magically dependent as Star (he'd have to check his 'Psyche for Dummies' book if that was even a thing) but he'd managed to get her settled on more mundane means. And as always for the girl, she'd leapt at the chance to learn something new and 'exciting.'

It was just too bad that nursing was one of the few things Star was _abysmal_ at.

Such were the winding thoughts of one Marco Diaz as he was amateurishly mummified by one Star Butterfly.

Star hummed happily as she wrapped some medical gauze around her best friend's injured hand. Though his reticence in the face of daring adventure could be frustrating at times, she could always count on Marco to have something useful on hand. And after what they'd been through that day, some bandages and sanitizer were sorely needed.

She had been extremely impressed by the way he'd backhanded that lizardman, but the resulting draw across its scales had torn up the boy's knuckles something fierce and left them looking more like meatloaf than monster busters.

It was kinda cute seeing the self-declared bad boy try to hold back tears and winces every time she made a new circle of gauze and rubbed against his scrapes, but she pretended she didn't see a thing. After all, no warrior liked having their weakness pointed out, and despite his suburbia heritage, Marco was as much a warrior as anyone from home. Making a few more loops around, she bit off a little extra and then, with the use of handy-dandy duct tape, secured it to Marco's hand.

Star stuck out her tongue, rolling the lollipop in her mouth back and forth, while she turned the newly-wrapped limb back and over again to check if she'd missed any parts. Not finding any problems, her mouth formed into an inquisitive grin. "Done! So... what'cha thing? Not bad, huh? Huh?"

Marco looked at the attempt at medicine and ached an eyebrow. He lifted up his hand and waved it back and forth. What came along with it was an obscene amount of wrapping, giving his appendage the appearance of a bloated boxing glove. It was really more gauze than hand now.

"It's, uh..." Marco said hesitantly, searching for something to say and only finding road blocks due to the excitement on her face. "Um, great, really. Top notch job." He smiled and tried to give a thumbs up but discovered that his fingers were perpetually locked in place and weren't even viewable if he could move them. Marco turned and started (or at least attempted) examining his hand, swinging it back and forth like an animal forced to wear booties might do.

Considering the misplaced affection Star had put into the work, the analogy was surprisingly appropriate.

Star's grin grew wider but slipped a bit when she caught a glance at her own hand. Marco had wrapped her wrist and two fingers up after she'd incorrectly punched a lizardman and bent one in ways fingers were not meant to bend. Unlike _her_ attempt, his wrapping was neat and orderly, covering only what was needed, with the stray ends delicately tucked and knotted so as to not bring any attention to them. It was tidy and clean and so very Marco-ish.

Plus, she got a lolli for being a good patient! She didn't have any lollis for Marco, just awesomeness and kickbuttitude (though admittedly, lollipops ranked pretty high on that scale).

A frown threatened to make its way to her face. Marco might not have been the wildest and most risk-taking person she knew, but there were a lot of things he _was_ good at and she _wasn't_ , and that made her... made her feel...

Star looked down at her lap. She didn't _like_ that she couldn't help Marco out in ways he could. It didn't seem fair - Marco kicked butt with her, but she couldn't help him after? What kind of friend was that? What kind of friend was _she?_

Star paused in her thoughts for a moment as she heard Marco trying to get her attention. She turned to him, making a small sound of acknowledgement.

"So, you think it's possible?"

Possible? Possible for what? She was too busy thinking dumb, stupid thoughts. "Huh, sorry. Say that again?"

Marco waved the clump of bandages. "Think I could use this as a weapon? I mean, it's pretty bulky and thick. Pretty sure it'd pack a huge wallop. And," he grinned rakishly, "I wouldn't have to worry about getting hurt 'cause I'm already pre-bandaged." He blinked at the blank look on her face. "Star? You hear me?"

Star said nothing as her namesake began to glitter within her eyes. She put her hands to her lips. "That... Sounds... _Awesome!_ " She grabbed the roll of bandages, shoved it at him, and bowed her head. "Do me, too! I wanna go headbutt something next!"

And once again, everything was right with the world.

Except for the lizardmen, who got beaten up again within twenty-fours by a couple of karate-chopping, headbutting, partially bloated manic mummies. The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never really saw Star at doing anything 'constructive' really well. She was more of the 'warrior princess' than healer in my eyes. And now I'm imagining her in a barbarian outfit and Marco as a white mage. Moving on...


	4. Smile

Star's smile was less like the metaphorical version of her name and more like the astronomical one - a huge ball of light and warmth that never failed to wake anyone up to the glorious break of day. Hers were always open, always ready to accept anything and anyone in her view. And, thus, others responded to her offer. Whenever the girl smiled, others followed en suite.

It didn't matter if the atmosphere was dark and dreary, cold and clammy, or tense and troubled, she always managed to garner some jovial reaction out of those close to her. It was like she had her own gravitational pull, dragging out ones like hers regardless of the situation.

Well, there were a few exceptions, but that was more because of the downside of having a smile like the sun - sometimes it was too bright as to be blinding, too hot as to be stifling, and too in your face as to, well, having a big ol' ball of fire shoved right up your nose.

To him, though, as personal-bubble-invasive as it could be, Marco really liked Star's smiles and how much she gifted them to not just him, but everyone.

Marco had a variety of different smiles, but all of them seemed to be a sort of the bravado in the end, something that he put up to make himself seem bigger than he really was. His desire to be the 'wild man' always inevitably fell flat, and the rich, arrogant smile he cultivated for such a desire always joined.

Marco's 'real' smile was actually much closer to Star's namesake than she ever was - a distant, twinkling thing that was sometimes hard to see but had an innate warmth that tingled the spine. Unlike others', his smile was always wavering, sometimes unsure. But just like the those blinking dots in the sky, there was the unequivocal fact that it would always be there, waiting to shine down.

It might take some work to pull it out, some difficulty to get around the exasperated prickliness he constantly exuded, but it was always worth seeing that gentle, knowing twitch of lips that never quite reached full bloom.

To her, the smiles that Star pulled from Marco's sea of nonplussed attitude were always the best ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always found it interesting how Star was always more like the sun than her actual name. Then again, we also had that ominous/foreshadowy mural in St. Olga's so... plot?


	5. Serene

It was a soft, gentle breeze that blew Star's blonde tresses into Marco's unsuspecting face.

The boy sputtered and pushed the invading strands out of his mouth.

"Sorry," she said.

"No problem."

The two fell back into comfortable silence. Star stretched her arms over her head and pulled, leaning backwards against Marco. He responded by crouching forward, turning his back into a human lounge chair, and propped his chin on his palm, elbow on a crossed knee. The princess grinned at the unexpected charity, her whole body now stretched out and basking in the light of the afternoon sun like an oversized cat. She cocked her head forward and affectionately batted it against his.

Marco rolled his eyes and stayed silent, his only response to give a mini-knock in return. She giggled and put more weight on him. He half-heartedly tried to slip her off, but her aggression completely overwhelmed and pinned him.

How unfortunate. How tragic.

For a while, the two just each other's presence and the day's tranquility. It was the perfect day to do so - only a few punctured clouds dotted the sky, a slight breeze kept it from getting too hot and blew away all the kicked-up dirt, and the sounds of nature mixed mellifluously with the muted, piteous moans and occasional muffled scream beneath them.

Marco and Star took in all of it and yet none of it. All they knew was that it was a good end to a good day with good company, and they would enjoy it to the fullest.

Star's foot shifted as she made herself more comfortable on Marco and knocked aside a pebble. The small rock tumbled down the pile of bodies the two were perched on and finally landed in an overturned skullcap (with the owner's spindly, twitching arm the only thing visibly peeking out from beneath the mass of bruised flesh).

Yep, just another normal, peaceful day between friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because why wouldn't they have a quiet moment on the bodies of their beaten foes?


	6. Cuisine

All the pots and pans had their bottoms, sides, rims, and handles melted through. Knives of various sizes, shapes, and sharpness were imbedded to the hilt at random places all over the kitchen. Tools with too many syllables in their names, all in differing states of disrepair or outright broken, were littered all about.

The refrigerator's doors hung off their hinges, the microwave had a hole the size of a large chicken blown through it (with said chicken baked a lovely charred black inside), and the stove was the only thing _not_ on fire. The toaster had ejected its contents at subsonic velocities and punctured twin rectangular holes in the ceiling, and the blender looked like the center of a gory horror flick with too much mulched and pureed organic matter to feel comfortable with.

A gelatinous mass of what looked like blighted jello on steroids quivered menacingly in the corner, held down only by a prodigious amount of plastic wrap and industrial-strength staples. Carrots, radishes, and turnips created a variety of human outlines in different states of motion on the walls, all leading either to or from a huge hole that had the exact shape of some overgrown, monsterish creatures and was leaking... _something_ viscous.

An egg the size of a beach ball was cracked open on a skillet much too small for it, several ceramic jugs were split open with their contents spilt all over, and too many spices to count were still hanging in the air, just waiting from some poor soul to walk in and choke on them.

Star stood there - her hair scorched and frizzed out, her whole body covered in flour, every single one of her fingers sliced, diced, or cut in some fashion. There was chocolate on the front of her dress, marmalade on the back, and mustard and ketchup drizzled all down the sides. Her lips and cheeks were trembling with some great, barely held back emotion.

Marco sat at the remains of what used to be the kitchen table. The furniture had been cleanly split down the middle, and his chair was barely propped up as is. In his hands was a bowl of, well... He wasn't quite sure _what_ it was, but it had to be _something_. He didn't know if it was edible, but it looked like it was made up of things that _could_ have been edible (at one point), so that was a step up from the worst case scenario.

The spoon he used to scoop up the 'food' was smoldering and sparkling slightly, and as he brought it to his mouth, he could already see the metal begin to oxidize and turn some unhealthy shade of indigo. There was a moment of hesitation when the spoon reached his lips, but with a squaring of his shoulders, he placed the offending utensil into his mouth.

...it was spicy, it was sweet, it was sour, and it was salty. It was crunchy and slimy and sticky and chewy. Rotten and grotesque and all-together _wrong_. It tasted like an old sock basted in onions and then garnished with three pounds of sugar and drizzled with motor oil. It tasted like death twice-baked over and like life reaching out from beyond the grave as revenge for some horrible wrong-doing. It was an affront against all of cooking-kind and he wouldn't wish for it on any of his worst enemies (even Jeremy).

He told Star as much, and the girl hung her head in shame for the horrible atrocity she'd committed. Marco had gone through all the trouble to teach her a simple recipe, and she'd transformed it into a war crime.

And so, with his opinion confirmed and her failure known, he did the only thing he would ever do in the situation.

He took another bite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I can't help but feel this is what would happen if Star ever tried to actually cook. Especially since magic would always find its way into the mix. Godspeed, Marco, your duty to friendship will forever be remembered.


	7. Carry

"You really don't have to do this," Marco said indignantly.

He received a terse, slurred raspberry in reply. "Aw, don' worry 'bout id. What're friends fer?"

"Yeah, but..." His half-hearted retort trailed off, and he winced as his ankle throbbed its discomfort. He sunk back into his gloomy sulk, dodging his face so it couldn't be seen.

However, it wasn't like Star could actually see his face even if he didn't try to hide it. Plus, the two were easily identified with his signature red hoodie and Star's... 'Star-ness.'

Which made it all the looks in their direction all the more painful. Especially as a girl a few inches shorter and easily a dozen or so pounds lighter than him piggybacked him home like an errant sack of beans.

It was a stupid thing, really - he'd mistaken the angle of descent of his dynamic entry on the Unibear and ended up rolling his ankle. A stupid mistake the result of his target bending over an inch more than he'd expected. Even stupider, he'd immediately and instinctively flowed into a crescent kick and probably damaged the darn thing even more.

And he most likely would've pushed it even farther if Star hadn't noticed his sudden limp and overcharged her wand with a Mega Rainbow Narwhal Blast. Why'd the girl always have to be so super intuitive whenever he ended up looking bad?

So now here he was, getting carried by his best friend like he was crippled. He already knew he had a raging inferiority complex towards the princess, and this was _not_ helping Marco feel like he could keep up with the transdimensional mini-warrior.

It didn't help she was humming like a loon while keeping her wand between her teeth like the multiverse's most manic pixie pirate.

Trying again to assert his masculinity, Marco pushed lightly on Star's shoulders. "Star, really, I can walk the rest of the way home. We're only, like, a couple blocks away."

"Mm-mmm," Star hummed, a suspiciously inordinate concentration of glee in her tone. "Ya might damage yer ankl' mer." Her hold on his legs tightened an almost imperceptible amount - changing from super snug to steel bear-trap.

Marco wasn't about to be deterred, though, his ire flared. He pushed again. "Dang it, Star! This is _embarrassing,_ getting carried around by a... by a..."

"By a wha?" Once again, that infuriatingly smug giggle!

And then Marco did what any other adolescent male did when they felt their pride was slighted - he stuck his big ol' foot into his big ol' mouth.

"By a _girl!_ "

The second, the _instant_ , he finished, he knew he'd messed up. It was as if the world had stopped and took a moment to just _stare_ at his palpable incompetence.

Marco hopped backwards when Star's grip on his legs suddenly released. All thrums of pain washed away as fear formed a dense clump in the pit of his stomach. He watched anxiously as the girl slowly, methodically, _achingly_ removed her wand from mouth. She turned around, and he didn't even try to hide how he flinched. It was like her eyes were boring directly into him.

"What did you say?" she asked quietly. Sound itself seemed to flee the general proximity of the two, leaving only her words hanging in the air, waiting, watching, _judging_. The air around her trembled, and Marco felt every hair he had on his body standing on end. He swallowed.

"I regret anything and everything I've ever done, please don't blast me to bits."

A couple moments that felt like an eternity passed, and then Star's body relaxed, all tension flowing from her. She pursed her lips.

"Marco, you're my friend, and you're a cool guy and all, but _jeeze_ can you be an idiot."

He nodded furiously. "Whatever you say."

Star sighed. "Marco, listen, you're my friend, my _best_ friend on Earth. You're my partner here, and _partners_..." She poked him the chest with her wand. "Help each other out. _Partners_..." Another push, harder this time. "Do it because _partners_..." He thought his chest my concave. "Are, well..." She shrugged. "Partners, ya know? Whether I'm a girl or not shouldn't matter, right?"

She waited. Marco figured he should say something as poignant as she did, but honestly, he just felt tired and a bit dumb. "Sorry, Star."

She smiled. "No problem." She turned around. "Now get back on; we've still got further to go."

He paused before just giving up and leaning onto the girl again. He was stupid and the situation was stupid and everything was pretty much stupid and...

He internally shook his head. Well, no point in thinking about it now. Star had an iron grip on his legs and was humming that tuneless melody again. He was pretty much trapped.

It wasn't until they were almost home that he realized something. He tapped her shoulder. "Hey, Star, how come you didn't just use your dimensional scissors to get us home instantly?"

Star's humming got louder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because while Marco is a sensitive soul, he's still a teenage boy, and teenage boys tend to be pretty ornery when their masculinity is threatened. Also, dohoho, Marco's being stupid.


	8. Wings

Star opened up the French doors that led to her balcony with an enthusiastic 'bang.' Striding out with ardent purpose, she made her way out to the balcony's edge and up the small, hand-made flight of stairs until she was on even height with the banister. The bright day's strong wind whipped her hair around her head with wild abandonment, but she didn't even try to hold it in place, such was her focus on the monumental task at hand.

On her back, finally free from the fabric of her dress by the hole she'd meticulously cut out of it, Star's wings flapped in unadulterated excitement. No longer were they tiny stubs that barely kept her aloft; now they were, admittedly, slightly _less_ tiny stubs that could _just_ create enough power to ignore the constant grasp of gravity by the most _miniscule_ amount.

Honestly, Star could get more air by jumping, but that was besides the point. These were her reward, her spoils, the crystallized acknowledgment of her victory over Mewberty. She didn't almost cocoon the entire male population of Echo Creek Academy and drag Oskar off to do... _stuff_ to him for nothing!

No, _this_ was for her growth as a warrior. _This_ was for her Mewni heritage. _This_ was-

"A really bad idea, Star! Even for you!"

Star frowned imperiously and glared down at the yard below. "Why do you always have to be such a wet blanket!"

Marco looked back up after depositing the bundle of pillows in his arms. Scattered around the yard were piles of pillows three feet high, the occasional trampoline shoved wherever it would fit, and nets strung all over. He backed up from his most recently built cushy bunker and crossed his arms, matching her glare for glare.

"Because _I'm_ the one about to watch my best friend chuck herself off her second-floor balcony at some insane attempt to fly." He gestured pointedly at her. "There's no way those wings can produce enough lift unless you weighed as much as a chicken." He set his mouth into a tight frown. "You just _ate_ an entire chicken for lunch."

"I need the extra energy to fly, duh." Star flung her hair over her shoulder, a show of confidence marred by the way the wind smacked it back into her face. "Besides," she spat out, "I did the calculations."

Marco raised an eyebrow. "You mean that paper full of meaningless equations that just ended with the solution, 'I'm awesome?'"

She grinned triumphantly. "You can't argue with math!"

"But that's not-"

"Ah-buh-buh!" she interrupted. " _Maaath..._ "

He sighed, recognizing the argument for the futile endeavor that it was. Switching to a different tract, he said, "Could you at least put on a safety line, like I asked?"

She blew a raspberry. "Just be glad I let you put down all those safety... catch... things at all." She stuck her nose up. "If I was back home on Mewni, I'd be doing this off the edge of a cliff onto some jagged rocks." Star put her hands on her stomach. " _Buuut_ the nearest cliff is, like, a couple hours away, and I just ate, so... my balcony it is!"

"Are you _sure_ you won't-"

"Marco! Shh! Flying!"

"...I hope you land on a cactus."

" _You're_ a cactus!"

Ignoring Marco's sputtering response, Star stood up straight and faced the sky. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Blocking everything else out, she gave her wings several experimental flaps until she was satisfied.

Good, no obvious problems - the muscles were stretched out, the venation was clear and without marks, no tears or scuffs or throw off air movement.

She was ready.

Star bent her knees, pushed off from the balcony, and leapt into the grand expanse of space. For a moment, her wings flapped quickly and strongly enough for her to deny the inexorable force that bound all living things to the ground. Her eyes opened and took in all that lay before her, all that she now sung above.

And then that's when gravity took notice of her and demanded Star get her big butt from up there down here.

Unable to keep herself aloft any further, Star found herself tumbling down. She tried to alter her course, swing herself back into an updraft like she'd heard from her mother, but her control over her wings still wasn't up to standards. She fell like a flightless, rotisserie bird.

Somehow, her landing trajectory ended up in the one spot Marco _hadn't_ managed to safeproof.

And there was a cactus sitting there. Of course.

Involuntarily, Star closed her eyes and waited for the prickly pain to happen. Pain did happen, blooming in all its wonderful owies, but it didn't feel as stabby as she'd assumed it would. Instead, it felt kinda soft in some places and hard in others...

Star opened her eyes and blinked. "You're _not_ a cactus."

"And you _definitely_ weight more than a chicken."

"Why did you..."

Marco grunted. "Because you're my friend. And friends protect each other from their own stupidity." He grinned lopsidedly, one side of his face raw from sliding on the ground after he caught her in midair. "Though I have to admit, that _was_ pretty darn cool. You actually flew for a couple seconds there."

"I know, right?" she squeaked excitedly. She winced as all her muscles lambasted her for making even the tiniest movements. The two fell into silence for a while.

Marco awkwardly coughed. "You, uh, you wanna get off me now?"

She didn't answer, couldn't answer. There was just too much happening right now. She felt him put a hand on her shoulder, and her entire body shuddered in one long muscle spasm. His dry, exasperated tone came right after.

"...you can't move your body, can you." It was not a question.

"My world is pain."

"Great," he sighed. Star just kept her head down. _Thinking_ hurt at the moment. "And I'm just kinda stuck here. Anything else you want me to know while we wait for my parents to peel us both off the ground?"

"...I think I landed on your house keys."

" _Ter_ -rific."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to every person that attempted to learn how to fly whenever they could find access to a roof or adequately climbable tree. Whether it was bedsheet parachutes, homemade wings, or the occasional hanglider, we salute your impetuous stupidity to do what biology and physics repeatedly told you wasn't possible. God bless your ability to live past the third grade. And no, I wasn't one of those brave souls - I was, and still am, pants-wettingly terrified of heights.


	9. Fever

There was a knock on the door. A second later, Star popped her head into the room.

"Marco, you any better?"

She didn't get a reply. Shifting all the way in, Star quietly closed the door behind her. She tiptoed her way to the bed, where a sleeping figure laid completely bundled up in blankets. Star dragged a chair from the table and set it up next to the bed, taking a seat. She scootched a bit closer and leaned forward.

Marco's face was heavily flushed, his brow beaded with sweat and lips slightly dry and cracked. His breathing was heavier than normal, and every once in a while he grimaced as he let out a series of light, pained coughs. Besides that, he was completely dead to the world, his fever having kept him unconscious for most of the day.

Star frowned in concern. She was the only one left in the house besides him. The Diazs _had_ planned on going out that weekend to a botanical garden or some other cool thing, but Marco's cold had quickly shot those plans down. The boy had barely even been able to get out of bed that morning, and he couldn't eat or drink anything.

Mr. Diaz said it was just a cold and that all his son needed to get better was a lot of bed rest and quiet. Star was apt to believe the older man. (She _thought_ he was a doctor? He did have a lot of medical books, though a lot had naked people, inside _and_ outside, in them.) Still didn't mean she had to like it.

After a lot of frenzied debate, she'd managed to convince Marco's parents to still go on their trip. It'd only be the next city over, and she would stay home to watch after Marco. It made her feel all warm inside that they'd immediately trusted her to take care of the boy despite her past... fiascos (yes, the fire type), and there was no way she'd betray that trust.

Still, there wasn't much she could do. Marco couldn't eat or drink anything, not even juice, without a lot of pain, and he'd been sleeping so long he had to be _starving_ whenever he woke up. Star didn't like it when she couldn't do anything to help her best friend, especially when it involved something hurting him that she couldn't just beat into submission.

Not like she even knew where to _start_ , anyway. Back on Mewni, if someone was sick you threw them into a pile of leeches to suck the evil spirits out that made them ill. But she didn't think the Diazs would appreciate her using Mewni folk remedies on their son, so that was out.

Star placed one hand on Marco's head and the other on hers. Her frown grew deeper. She _supposed_ his head felt hotter than normal, but it was still pretty tame compared to average Mewnian body temperature.

Removing her hands, Star fished her and Marco's phone out of her pocket. Never hurt to do a little more checking, right? Mr. Diaz could've been wrong, right?

She spent a few minutes searching the web before finding a website that looked promising. It claimed it could diagnose any illness and its cure - just plug in the symptoms and go. She scrolled down the list, checking off boxes as she went.

Fever? Check. Labored breathing? Check Lack of appetite, sweating, coughing, always tired? Check, check, check, and check.

...maybe a few more would be good, too.

Star finished off the list and hit the 'diagnose' button. Barely a second later, the result popped up.

...what the heck was malaria? She scrolled down to check out the symptoms and end results.

...oh her Mewni!

* * *

It was a long, slow process, but Marco eventually woke back up the land of the living. Or he thought he did, but the way it was completely pitch black, stickily warm, and how he was buried underneath who knew how much stuff made him wonder.

Weakly pushing, he managed to shift enough of the junk on top of him to pull himself up to a more sitting position. What he saw made him take pause.

The couple blankets he'd had when he'd fallen asleep had someone multiplied tenfold, nearly reaching the ceiling. Several heated, moist towels had fallen from his head onto his chest, making him feel even hotter than before. There was a humidifier _and_ a dehumidifier belching out and sucking in moisture from the room. And he didn't even want to _think_ about what squelchy, lukewarm thing was curled around his feet.

Marco glanced at the side of his bed through bleary eyes and immediately found the reason.

Star was crouched over, arms acting as makeshift pillows. She looked tired, frizzed out, and altogether belabored. He noticed how one hand was tightly gripping the blanket near where his was. A soft smile tugged at his mouth.

Putting aside the towels but keeping the blankets, Marco slid back under the covers. He tapped at her hand through the blankets.

"Night, Star."

A happy sound and boisterous sneeze were his reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it is my headcanon that Mr. Diaz does have some sort of medical training or education. The 'medical pictures' gags used in 'Storm the Castle' fueled it. Also, no, they aren't 'dirty' books disguised as medical; lots of medical texts have drawings, photorealistic, and photos of naked people to show differences. Also, the leech joke was not a joke - they seriously believed in that before people found out what the heck germs were.


	10. Eve

Marco really should have known better.

The problem wasn't explaining to Star what Christmas was. It was a great holiday that his family, Echo Creek, and the world as a whole feverishly celebrated. Sharing customs and culture was a major part of living with a transfer student, from the same dimension or another. Besides, seeing how her face lit up like the Christmas tree he'd described (also the food, the gifts, the singing, and just the all around _sparkliness_ of the season) was definitely worth it .

No, what he _really_ should've known to at least clarify was the existence of Santa Claus. It was a disaster in the making - any form of mysticism immediately flicked all of Star's crazy switches on full tilt, so something as fantastic as a man who traveled the entire world in a single night would definitely set her off.

It was like the fortune cookie incident all over again. He thought he'd have a little fun at the girl's expense - just some harmless prank, the kind you had with children young enough to still legitimately believe in Santa. And it all came tumbling down in the stupidest ways because he couldn't _re_ -convince her that it was all a joke.

He told her about how the jolly man could see if you were good or bad the entire year, and how he would put you on a list to determine your gift. She took it that Santa had some omniscient scrying device and proceeded to start blasting anything even the tiniest bit camera-y (a lot of cell phones went poof the couple weeks leading up to Christmas).

He told her how Santa rode in a sled pulled by a dozen-and-one reindeer that could fly in the sky and light up the night with a big, red nose. She took it that the saint had bred monsters that could break the laws of physics and was some great and powerful wizard (some of the spells he saw her practicing after that were... scary, to say the least).

He told her how bringer of good cheer could visit every house in the world in a single night via a person's chimney, whether they had one or not. She took it that he had some dirt on Father Time and could freeze or manipulate time as he desired.

And he told her how Santa could be sated by milk and cookies as he brought goodies to all the children. So she combined extortion with breaking and entering and got 'EVIL.'

It was another 'act of Star' in the making.

So when Marco woke up just before midnight on Christmas Eve from some loud noises and shouts from downstairs, he just _knew_ it was because of Star (and indirectly because of him).

What he didn't expect was to find him father in a Santa Claus outfit, complete with beard and all, trussed up like a Christmas turkey underneath the boot of a battle-garbed Star. It was even more unfortunate that Marco came in just as Star was beginning to interrogate 'Santa' where he kept his magic bag of infinite gifts.

He... he didn't even want to imagine what the Banagic was for.

After managing to free his father and explain to a now mortified Star, the rest of the holiday went about as calmly and as happily as planned (well, except for how Star turned all the stuff in his stocking into coal, but that was fair recompense). But from then on, Marco made it a point _not_ to teach Star anything that could be misconstrued in a way that led to... Star-stuff from happening (even if was _really_ funny in the beginning).

...well, he _tried_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's the (entirely out of season) Christmas episode. Enjoy it. And for those people who (painfully) persisted through ten chapters with me, have a drabble mini-arc next!


	11. Wound

It was a stray shot, completely unpredictable and utterly devastating.

She had insisted they could take the bandit group on by themselves - the monsters were poorly equipped, and they had been fighting together for a while now and had always come up on top. He thought it was dangerous - they were still only two people, barely teenagers at that, and the bandits outnumbered them nearly five to one and (probably) weren't as incompetent as Ludo's minions had been.

He advised discretion over valor, and she just wanted the latter. The monsters had been getting braver with raiding the outskirts of her kingdom, pillaging what they could while not quite breaking the taboo that would make the army deal with them.

She won the argument, using logic that was flawless only to her and took advantage of his desire, his need, to prove himself a hero, her partner, her _friend_.

So they attacked, they fought, they opened fire on the small camp, and the monsters retaliated.

She was in her element, blasting enemies with nary a missed stroke, crushing those that stood before her, driving them away like wheat before the thresher. Near her, she could hear her partner using that funky 'ka-ra-te' to kick just as much monster butt as her. Her grin was wide with unrivalled joy, her heart swelled with the thrill of victory, her blood sang with the trill of battle.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a monster that had managed to stay out of her effective attack range nock back an arrow. She didn't have enough time to snipe it with so many melee fighters right next to her, so she used her wand to form a temporary shield of hardened cloud. She spun, smacking an oncoming monster wielding an battle axe, and deflected the arrow as it flew towards her.

The arrow went astray, past her vision. There was a wet sound of impact and cry of pain. Star completed her turn, expecting to see the projectile had found its way into one of the other enemy combatants. It always did, it always had. There was no reason to think this time would be any different.

It was - different and horrifying.

She saw him there, on the ground, the length of wood and metal piercing him just to the side of his right shoulder, underneath the collar bone. His eyes were closed, his face loosened in unconsciousness. The muscles on his neck were paradoxically strung tight, showing the pulsing of his veins and arteries. His legs and arms were askance, almost at an odd angle, and his head was tilted back in just plain wrongness.

"Marco...?"

The area around where the arrow had struck him was red, but... no, not quite the red she was used to seeing. It was not the vibrant crimson of the hoodie he loved so much; it was something deeper, darker.

Almost imperceptively, little by little, that shift in red spread out from the arrow, covering his arm and chest. As it did, the boy's face grew whiter and whiter, paler and more gaunt.

"Mar...co...?"

He did not answer, would not answer, _could_ not answer. After all, there was no answering for the-

There. She caught the slight rise and fall of his chest. He wasn't... hadn't been...

...but he was still hurt... and it was her fault, directly or indirectly. Her selfishness, her pride, her inability to protect him - they just as much wounded him as that arrow.

Her blood pounded in her ears, her eyes flashed with undecipherable shapes and figures, her skin tingled with electricity, and the taste of ozone danced on the tip of her tongue. Something hot and vile boiled in her gut and threatened to overwhelm her. Some unknown emotion crawled across her nerves and down her spine, something that she couldn't put to words, make visceral.

She could hear the rest of the monster forces rushing towards her, noticing her pause, advancing on her weakness. Surely, with her forces cut in half, she would be that much more vulnerable.

They would soon learn how wrong that thought was.

"...Marco."

And then her world turned white and red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...uh, yeah, so I'm going there. See ya next time? *runs away in fear*


	12. Regret

One. Two. Five. Thirty-seven. Forty.

The number of hours it took for her to get him to a hospital. The number of hours he was in surgery for the shoulder and head injury and blood loss. The number of stitches he needed. The number of hours he had to stay in the hospital to make sure there weren't any unforeseen consequences.

The number of hours since she had last talked to him.

...it could have been much worse.

The arrowhead could have sliced open a major blood vessel and caused him to bleed to death before she got him to help. Instead, it only nicked a minor vein - enough blood to cause a panic but not enough to endanger his life.

The arrow could have lodged itself in his bone and left him without use of his arm for the rest of his life. Instead, it clipped off of the clavicle and stopped in a relatively safe lump of muscle.

In her panic, she could have yanked the arrow out and torn up his body more than when the arrow went in. Instead, she kept enough sense to just snap the shaft so that he would be easier to carry.

He could have been dead, comatose, or crippled. Instead, he was (mostly) fine with his entire right arm in a sling so that he wouldn't accidentally strain himself and hurt his body further.

But that didn't matter, because he _still got hurt_... and it was _all her fault_.

Star lied motionlessly on her bed, staring unerringly at the bed's canopy. Her room was almost completely dark - it was already late at night, and all her lights were off with the only bits of illumination coming from between her drawn-shut curtains.

Her eyes already accustomed to the lack of light, Star tried to make out the obscure, nearly non-existent patterns above her. Her mind raced to find something, anything, to keep it off the one thing it kept consistently coming back to. Inevitably, the patterns kept forming the same image.

With a groan of displeasure and frustration, Star turned over to face the wall. Even if she had the desire to (and _no way_ she would), she couldn't deny the crux of the whole issue - she had messed up. She rubbed at her eyes, their sore puffiness having finally started to subside.

No, she wasn't going to cry again; she'd already done plenty of that. Enough for her entire life, thank you very much.

Besides, it wasn't like crying would absolve her of her sins. Not from her, at the very least. In fact, as far as anyone else was concerned, _she_ was the only person not willing to forgive her.

Marco's parents had been amazingly forgiving and kind as they always were, telling her that it wasn't her fault, that Marco knew what he was getting into. They were just glad their son was back with them and safe for the time being. Their gentle eyes, ones that to used to make her feel so wanted and loved, felt like a twisting knife in her gut. Why didn't they blame her, _hate_ her, for what she did?

Her father had barely scolded her. He just said it was the risk taken when doing what they did. He knew the possible consequence and accepted them. It wasn't so bad hearing that from him.

Even Marco, the stupid, sweet idiot, had asked how she was the brief moments he was awake and not completely conked out on painkillers. Her insane expedition had gotten him _shot_ , and he was more worried about _her?_

Even worse, she didn't even have the nerve to be with him when he was awake. She had been too ashamed, too guilty to face him properly. By the time she'd manage to work herself up, the boy had fallen asleep again, and soon after she'd hid herself at the Diazs' like a coward.

The worst may have been her mother. Star had expected a dressing down of the highest order - to have her wand taken away, stripped of her status, forced back home, sent to St. Olga's, _anything_. Instead, all she had gotten was a hug, a small talk about responsibility, and a look of brief disappointment that shook her to her core.

Her mother already knew. The dark feelings already in her soul would beat out anything the queen could possibly give her - she was her own judge and executioner.

Star jumped slightly when she heard the front door open. From underneath her door, she could see lights being turned on and hear multiple sets of footsteps making their way inside. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she choked down the bile bubbling up.

The Diazs had taken to watching over their son in shifts, and tonight was when he was scheduled to finally come home, so they both left to retrieve him. Meanwhile, Star hid in her room like a wimp. Now they were all home, and she still couldn't bring herself to go greet them. How could she? She was the reason Marco was hurt!

Heavy footsteps made their way up the stairs. They passed by her door on the way to Marco's room. She cracked the door slightly ajar to peek outside.

Mr. Diaz was carrying Marco like a baby, the boy cradled in his father's large arms. He had been carefully positioned so that his sling was on the outside and gently held up. The boy's face was still a bit pale but with more color than she'd last seen him.

Her door must've made more noise than she thought, because Mr. Diaz swiveled his head towards her. Still ashamed but not wanting to make herself look worse, Star forced away the instinct to hide.

Mr. Diaz looked at her for a moment, and then a gentle smile crossed his face. He turned back around and opened the door to Marco's room, carrying the boy inside.

She jumped when someone placed a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she found Mrs. Diaz gracing her with that same smile. The older woman squeezed her shoulder and then, without saying a word, followed her husband into her son's room, leaving the door open behind her.

Star knew what the woman was implying and appreciated the gesture but...

She closed her door and leaned against it, sliding down until she was in a sitting position. Time passed, and she heard Mr. and Mrs. Diaz walking past her room and into their own. The lights went out, and silence filled the house again.

More time passed. Star sat there, thinking. Something coalesced within her.

Quietly, she slid out of her room and padded down the hall into Marco's, the door still enticingly open. She walked over to Marco's bed.

The boy was sound asleep. Everyone once in a while a short catch of breath would escape him, but he soon calmed down and fell back into peaceful slumber.

Star slowly reached out a hand. She inched towards his head, flinched back for a moment, and then, with a strength she forced from within herself, brushed aside his bangs and lightly touched his forehead. The boy reacted with a mumble, turning ever-so-slightly into her touch.

Star swallowed. She knew, then and there. She never wanted to see Marco hurt like this again, not by her hand or anyone else's. By hell or high water, she would do whatever she could to protect him, to make up for the wrongs she'd dealt him.

He was her friend, her partner, her _hero_ , even if she never wanted one to begin with. It was time she started acting like one in turn.

Star swore it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Star torture, yay. It might've gotten a little angsty, but it felt appropriate to the situation. Also, for those who thought the way the arrow wound was described? Yeah, they can get really bad; apparently arrow wounds are worse/more deadly than gunshot ones (reason why bow and arrow were used for millennia as hunting/war weapons). Anyway, next chapter should be lighter, so look forward there.


	13. Cling

Marco never really put much weight into the phrase, 'killing with kindness.' After all, there were so many other effective, reasonable ways to die - explosions, fire, getting stepped on by a hydra, being eaten by a mutant two-headed chicken... Why _would_ , or how _could_ , anyone destroy somebody in such a roundabout and nice manner? How would it even work?

After the last couple of weeks, however, he had to give the saying some credence - it actually _was_ possible to smother a person by being too anxious to please or care for.

He was pretty sure he'd never have such an insanely invasive and paranoid conversation otherwise.

"For the last time, Star..." Marco ground out. He marched down the hall, refusing to look at the trailing blonde that had the cuff of his sleeve in an iron grip. "No, you can't go into the bathroom with me."

Star stopped gnawing on her wand long enough to give him a plaintive look and say, "But what if extradimensional assassins attack you while you're in there?"

He stopped and turned around, an incredulous look on his face. "Extradimensional assassins are going to attack me while I go number one?"

"It'd be the perfect time!" she insisted. "What better way to catch you when your pants are down then when your pants _are_ down?"

Marco felt himself reel ( _physically_ reel) as her usual brand of insane logic somehow took a leap to a new level of trollness. A hand went to his face as his temples began to throb fiercely. "What are you- I don't- no, I mean- what even..."

She pushed ahead. "You see? I _have_ to be there so that you aren't caught _completely_ off guard! What kind of friend would I be if I couldn't protect my bestie from toilet-hopping, extradimensional bathroom assassins?"

Marco felt something snap - a clear, high note that suddenly turned discordant as it broke off and flew into the abyss that was now his soul. He smoothly turned on his heel and walked silently down the hallway.

Star followed after him. "Marco...?" she asked, her voice hesitantly questioning.

Marco opened the bathroom door and, in one smooth motion, slammed it in her face. "Nope." The click of the door locking followed right after.

The knob jiggled a bit behind him. Through the door, he could hear Star say, "Okay, so I'll just stand guard out here then. Make sure to call me if any assassins appear!"

He leaned his back against the door before slowly sliding down into a sitting position. He started drawing his head forward to knock it back against the door, but realized that would only give Star impetus to try and break the door down in some misguided attempt to 'save' him. Instead, he kept his chin lowered and took to just staring at his feet.

How did his life get so weird? Pretending to use the bathroom just so he could get some space? What was he, five?

The last two weeks had been... eventful, to put it lightly.

He put his good hand to his injured shoulder and held back a wince. He'd only recently been allowed to move around without the sling, and his arm felt sore and clumsy after being in one for so long. A fresh, if somewhat dulled, rush of pain arced down his arm, and he bit his lip in annoyance.

A concussion, mild blood loss, and torn collection of muscles with names he couldn't pronounce was his diagnosis. A wordy description for getting his butt knocked out cold and then waking up to find his mother squeezing the remaining life out of him. He didn't even bother to ask how the 'other guy' faired - King Butterfly's brief mention of a newly glassed portion of Mewni said far more than needed. And as for the girl who performed such extreme amateur landscaping...

Marco released the sigh he'd been holding in. He could hear through the door Star pacing back and forth, and the image of the blonde grinding her teeth on her beloved wand came to the forefront of his mind. The girl's tic had always been obvious, but he was surprised she hadn't chewed straight through the artifact yet at the increased rate she'd recently been going at.

At first, he almost felt slighted when he woke up and his best friend hadn't been there to greet him. But after his parents explained the girl had all but barricaded herself inside her room since his injury, that feeling quickly faded away only to be replaced by worry.

Star had always been overprotective and possessive of the things and people she cared for. It was impossible _not_ to see that side of her, just like it was impossible not to notice her sunny demeanor or huge ego. So he could easily pare out why the girl didn't go see him and instead hid herself away like some hermit.

...she was an idiot for thinking so, of course. The fault had been no one but his for putting himself in such a precarious situation (well, maybe the monster that shot him could share the blame, but considering its composite particles were probably floating in Mewni airspace...).

Still, he couldn't really blame _her_. Which made the way she'd been acting lately that much harder to stop. (Marco may have been an honorary [ _read: hopeful_ ] Ph.D, but even _he_ didn't want to try and consider the ramifications of Star's recent behavioral shift. Just... no.)

When it all started, he'd thought she was just being clingier and more touchy-feely than usual. After all, the princess loved giving hugs, hips and shoulder bumps, and cheek rubs to pretty much anyone who took her fancy. Having the girl figuratively graft herself to his good arm when they went anywhere (and they always went _together_ ) just seemed to be a paranoid extension of her guilt.

It did get a little awkward at times, especially when the girl insisted on being with him wherever he went, even when he tried to talk to Jackie (...and she was the one who _made him_ in some misguided attempt to fight against his own mortality). But he figured it wouldn't hurt to let the girl have her weird security blanket for a bit.

That's when things started to get _creepy_.

Like when he woke up, and Star was there... just _watching_ him.

He still remembered it clearly. He must've rolled onto his bad shoulder while sleeping, which threw him into the waking world quite abruptly and with a quiet, pained shout. As he sat there, nursing the throbbing limb, he felt someone had been quietly observing him.

And there Star was... at the foot of his bed... in full-battle armor...

The fact that she'd bluntly admitted to keeping nightly vigil over him just made it worse.

Plus, there were the several incidents when Star got a little _too_ trigger happy over any perceived threats. There were still swaths of Echo Creek smoldering from when things or people had approached him too quickly or without warning.

...he'd never forget the look of horror on that ice cream mascot's face after the poor soul jumped in front of him with a promo for his shop. Star had... not been kind to the 'Maple Swirl Monster.'

With a slight groan, Marco climbed to his feet. There was something he needed to do, he knew that, but he wasn't sure _what_. What was he supposed to tell Star - that she was being crazier than normal and that she should stop being such a moron?

...that... might actually work, but it was definitely too cruel considering the girl was just doing what she thought was best (for _him_ , he reminded himself).

He walked over the sink, noting that the place had gotten completely disorganized again. Without proper use of both his arms, he hadn't been able to keep everything in its proper place, and his various bobbles and whatchamacallits were scattered around more than he liked. He sighed. Might as take the time to start cleaning things up now that he had access to both his hands.

As he reached for the cup that he kept his toothbrush in, another twinge of pain snapped through his shoulder and upper arm. His arm spasmed lightly and ended up knocking the cup off the sink. Marco bit out a curse when the glass broke on the ceramic floor, spreading out all over the place. Great, now he'd made even more of a mess.

Star's voice cracked through the door like a whip. "Marco!"

He barely had time to turn around when the door ceased to exist, being reduced to little more than splinters and sawdust. Star's form quickly dashed through the cloud of dust, her wand glowing with building power. Her eyes wildly tracked the room until they landed on him, her face sagging in relief upon realizing he was still safe.

"Oh thank Mewni, you're sa..." Then her eyes roved downward. She pointed at him. "I told you bathroom assassins would get you with your pants down!"

Marco spared a glance and almost cried.

A splint of wood must've hit the elastic in his sweatpants and snapped it, because said pants were now loosely piled around his ankles.

As Star freshly beleaguered him with reasons why she couldn't leave him alone even for a second, Marco came to the decision that something had to be done. He _had_ talk to Star about her smothering before things got even worse.

... _right_ as soon as he pulled his pants back up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's the levity I promised. Hope you enjoyed it. Overprotective Star is fun, and I can't help but feel something like this happened soon after the Season 1 finale as well (though maybe not to this extent?) Also, longest chapter yet!
> 
> On a separate note, I'm going to be limiting my posts to every other day or so - mostly to keep myself from burning out, but also so that I can get back to writing my main fanfic (DresdenxSailor Moon, ho!)
> 
> On a separate separate note, c'mon guys, start leaving more reviews! Comments/suggestions/questions/criticism (actually would like the latter), I need feedback! Tell me what I'm doing right, wrong, whatever! I'm mostly used to writing full length fics, so I need to know if this drabble format is actually working or not. Anyway, see ya next time, and enjoy the rest of the arc.


	14. Presence

Marco closed the door behind him and made his way to bed. His pajama top was slightly askew, a couple buttons unfastened, but with how stiff his arm still was, he didn't care if his sleeping attire was a little messy. Climbing into bed, he pulled the covers over his body as much as he could, being careful to lean on his good shoulder when doing so. He leaned over, turned off the light, and then settled back into bed.

He blinked.

"Star, I know you're there. Get out here."

He heard a shuffling from underneath his bed, and Star's head popped out from beneath the side. "What's up?"

He narrowed an eye and sighed. "What are you doing under there?"

"Protecting you against monsters the bed."

"...monsters don't live under peoples' beds. That's just an urban legend."

She nodded sagaciously. "Ah, that's just what they _want_ you to think. Actually, the bed's undercarriage is the best place for monsters to reside - surprisingly roomy and all the dust bunnies and discarded snack foods they can eat."

Marco raised a hand to palm his face and decided against it; he'd need all the energy he had to get through this conversation. "...just get up here."

Star grabbed the edge of the bed and pulled herself out, somehow being dexterous enough to do a front flip onto his bed. She kneeled while he pulled himself into a sitting position, flipping the lamp on so that he'd have enough light to see by. He looked the girl over.

At the very least, she wasn't wearing her full battle armor and wielding a mace like when he'd first realized she was watching him. Instead, she was in her nightwear and almost looked at home except for the grim and determined frown fixed on her face. Her wand was clutched loosely in her hands, but he noticed how her fingers would inch up and down the artifact's handle, almost as though she was ready to blast any intruder or aggressor at a moment's (and probably not even thought's) notice.

He sighed. "Star, we have to talk."

"Sure," she chirped, her fierce visage melting into the gooier, more laidback features he was used to. "What'cha need? You want me to get you a glass of water? A nighttime snack? The heads of your enemies?"

"...what was the last one?"

"The head of your enemies," she repeated dutifully.

"...you weren't supposed to actually- never mind." Why did he think Star would have the tact to _not_ show the more bloodthirsty aspects of her nature? How long had they been friends? Also, considering what he was able to gather of Mewni culture, he could see how that was a completely viable option. "Listen, some things need to change around here."

"I _know!_ " Star huffed indignantly. "Your home's defenses are _woefully_ unprepared for any kind of lasting assault against it. If someone tries to besiege the place, you don't even have any spots to dump boiling oil on them!" She gestured vaguely with her hand (the one with the wand, he absently noted). "Not to mention you don't have _nearly_ enough shooty-stabby holes."

"I don't even-" He groaned and rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. "No, see, that's exactly the kind of thing I'm talking about. _This..._ " He made a circling motion in her direction. "This whole _thing_ needs to stop."

She gave him a quizzical, confused look in return. "What are you talking about?"

"What am I talking about? I'm talking about... _this!_ "

She laughed. "Jeez, Marco, you gotta be more specific. 'This,'" she made quotes with her fingers, "isn't going to tell me anything."

He twitched. This was going a lot worse and stupider than he'd hoped. "Star, this whole 'protecting me' shtick has to stop."

She blew a raspberry. "Oh, is the big, strong wild man embarrassed that he's being protected by his girl bestie? I thought we went over that junk already."

He narrowed both eyes at her evasiveness. "No, this _guy_ is embarrassed by his best friend _smothering_ him."

Star snorted. "What'cha-"

"I'm serious, Star," he interrupted. He was starting to get annoyed by the facetious way Star was treating the whole situation, like she _didn't_ know _exactly_ what he was talking about. "Things are getting way too out of hand here. _You're_ getting out of hand."

She gave him a smoothing smile, which was somewhat marred by the small twitch to the corners of her lips. "Marco, you kinda _do_ need some extra protecting now."

"I'm not an invalid, Star."

She poked him in the chest and flicked a stray loose button. "Says the boy who can't even dress himself properly."

He swatted her hand away, perhaps with a bit more force than he'd meant. "Darn it, Star, I'm not joking," he growled. The girl's smile slipped a bit. "You're going overboard with... with everything!"

"But Marco, I'm just trying to-"

He steamrolled ahead. There was no way she was going to sidestep or evade him now. "Following me to the bathroom, both in private _and_ in public? Blasting anything that seems even the _slightest_ suspicious? Watching me when I _sleep?_ Those _aren't_ normal, Star!"

"I just want to keep you safe!"

"From what? From everything? Nothing here is going to hurt me! There's nothing in Echo Creek that's suddenly going to attack or eat or stomp on me!"

"There could be! You never know what-"

"There's _nothing_ here _like_ that!" His emotions pouring out, Marco didn't even pause to consider what he said next. "In fact, the only thing that could harm is _you_."

The room went silent.

Star looked like someone had punched her in the gut. Tears came to her eyes, and Marco panicked at the thought that she'd start crying. That was all he needed - trying to have a serious conversation with the girl and instead he'd emotionally broken her.

His fears went (somewhat) unfounded, as the girl made a huge snort and stopped the tears from falling through an act of sheer force of will. Star drew her arm across her face and wiped away the wetness from her eyes, consequently wiping a stream of snot along her arm.

"I knew it," she muttered darkly. "I really _am_ nothing but trouble."

"Star, I-" Marco tried to say, but she barged on ahead.

"It's true! Ever since I got here, I've caused nothing but chaos in your life! And look where it ended up!" She flung an arm out recklessly and pointed at his bad shoulder. "I got you shot and sent to the hospital! What kind of friend, what kind of _person_ , am I?"

"You can't blame yourself for that!" he said. " _You_ weren't the one who shot me!"

"But you wouldn't have even been in place to get shot if I hadn't forced you to!"

Marco seethed and hissed through his teeth. "Don't think you forced me to do anything! I came along of my own free will!"

"But _I_ was the one who forced their hand! If I had just listened to you, pulled back, gotten some reinforcements, you wouldn't have... wouldn't have..."

"Star, I was-"

"You could have died!" she cried. This time, she didn't even try to stop the tears from flowing down her cheeks. "If I hadn't gotten you to a hospital in time, if I hadn't kept myself calm long enough, if I hadn't been so stupid in the first place... You could have died, and it would've been all my fault!"

"But I'm _not_ dead!"

"And you being injured is any better?" she growled harshly, her fear, rage, despair, and anxiety bubbling together and out of her throat like a caged beast. "If that arrow had landed anywhere else, your arm could've... could've..."

"But it _didn't,_ " he stressed. "Besides," he said, grasping at straws, "chicks dig scars right?" The twin marks on his front and back from where the arrow had entered and the doctors had pushed out was already starting to scab over. It wouldn't be some great show of a thing, but he was certain the guys would find it cool beyond belief.

His joke had the opposite effect. Star's face collapsed, and she gave up any semblance of keeping it together. She started to bawl and made as if to run away, turning her body to scramble off the bed.

He didn't think, he didn't ponder, he just did. Marco launched forward and wrapped his arms around Star, pulling the girl into a tight hug. The blonde weakly tried to escape his grasp, but he just tightened his grip. As he did, his injured shoulder screamed in pain, and tears collected in the corners of his eyes, but Marco refused to show any signs of discomfort. He thought that if he did, he wouldn't be able to keep hold of the still squirming girl.

"Star. Star!" he whispered tersely, gritting his teeth. "Star, I'm here; I'm _right here._ " He leaned his head on the girl's shoulders. "I'm here, I'm not anywhere else. I'm... just here."

The girl's wriggling died down, as did her crying. "Mar...co?"

"I'm here, Star," he repeated. "I'm here. I can't... I can't say I'll always be here, but I'm here _now._ "

Her hands found purchase on his pajamas, and he could feel her nails digging into the fabric and partially into his skin. "But what if you _aren't_ anymore? What if... what if I, what if someone-"

"Star, I'm here... for as long as I can be." Marco forged on through the pain and tightened his hold, his arm now completely on fire. The girl squeaked as he did. "I can't say anything about the future, but... but Star." He closed his eyes and rested his face full on her neck. "I'll be here, with you, for as long as I can be. You're my friend, my partner. You can't always protect me-"

Her nails scratched his flesh and her chin lodged firmly into the crook of his neck. "Like Mewni I can't."

He chuckled, a hitch to his voice, but from the pain or sudden burst of mirth at her words he couldn't tell. "You'll try, I know. But... but you also have to know... that... that's just life, Star. You, you can't always predict what's going to happen. I..." He laughed softly. "I didn't predict my best friend would turn out to be a completely psychotic princess from another dimension with a penchant for setting things on fire and kicking fairytale monsters' teeth in."

He felt her shrug and heard a light giggle on her breath. "I guess I didn't think my bestie would be a total wet blanket who organizes his underwear by the days of the week."

"It's organization at its finest," he defended. She giggled again, louder. He smiled and took a deep breath. "But you see, we can't know what happens next. We just... we just have to take it as it comes and hope for the best."

"But what if you-"

"I'll try not to. But... sometimes... you just have to roll with the punches. You know, like we always do."

She remained quiet for a few moments. Marco started to speak again, hoping to quell any more fears she might have, but then she suddenly spoke up. Her voice was soft, and he could hear the tremble in her tone, but there was something... radiant... and hopeful there, too.

"You promise. You really promise you'll be here?"

"...for as long as I can."

"...then I guess I can tone down what I've been doing a bit." She cut him off before he could respond. "Just a bit! Just until your shoulder gets better!"

He laughed hoarsely. "I think I can deal with that."

The two stayed like that, each holding the other, until Marco felt an uncomfortable, aching twinge pulsing from his shoulder and radiating throughout his entire body. He suddenly felt drained, and his hold on the girl started to loosen, his arms weak and lethargic.

"Star?"

"Hmm?" she hummed contentedly.

"Promise you're not gonna freak out or anything but... I think I'm gonna take a nap now..."

Her voice was filled with confusion. "What are you-"

Marco's arms fell away from Star, and his surroundings and awareness dimmed. The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was Star's scared and somewhat furious expression, and he wondered if he had perhaps lost some of the credibility he'd built up with that heartfelt talk.

Ah well, he supposed that was the price he had to pay for pushing himself (and his injury) further than he should've. Still, in the end, he considered it an equitable price as long as fixed this whole mess he and Star had found themselves in. If it meant they could go back to how they used to be, a little fainting was well worth it.

Still, he mused, when he woke up again, what kind of expression would be on Star's face then?

He really hoped it was a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Penultimate episode of the arc. This one had a lot more dialogue than I usually write for these drabbles, but I felt it would be impossible to get the point of the chapter across with just narration. Also, I wanted to show more of the actual relationship between Star and Marco... even if it got a wee bit too melodramatic at times.
> 
> Once again, if you guys have any criticisms, please tell me. Do you enjoy the longer chapters, the dialogue, or are the shorter, more lemony narrator ones more to you liking? Are the mini-arc ones any good? As much as I like positive reviews, 'negative' ones with constructive criticism are also dearly adored. In any case, the last episode of the mini-arc is coming up next, and then we're back to random drabbles and such. See ya then.


	15. Now

It was almost as though things were back to normal (for relative standards of normal). It had taken a while longer then they'd have liked, but Marco was finally considered well enough by his physician to do more something more strenuous than squeeze a stress ball.

So what did Star and Marco do to celebrate his long awaited recovery? They got into a brawl with some monsters at a dinky club on the far end of the multiverse.

It wasn't _quite_ their fault (not really). Sure, they hadn't exactly been trying to stay out of trouble, but they hadn't really been looking for it either. The monster and his jerk buds that 'didn't like their faces' had really been asking for it, especially after they interrupted the nice, sloppy meal of some random, indescribable exotic dish the two had been sharing.

You didn't mess with two besties hanging out; it was just stupid and rude. So they responded with possibly less tact than the situation required and things just kind of snowballed from there. But hey, the _monsters_ were the ones that pulled the first punch; any of the other patrons would _totally_ back them up.

You know, if there was anyone still conscious and willing to face the local authorities after the huge fight that engulfed the entire club.

The grin on Marco's face as he socked a monster in the gut with his recovered arm and _didn't_ have it spaz out was blinding. Said gut punch was followed through with an elbow smash and spin kick that threatened to split the boy's face wide open with delight. (It also dislocated several joints in the monster's jaw, hip, and knee, but no one really cared about _him_.)

Star's smile matched his, shine for shine, ecstatic that her bestie was finally throwing his well-deserved weight back into the world. She blasted a monster that threatened her with a chair into the club's bandstand. The musicians didn't even break stride in their song as they smoothly flowed around the flying body, their rhythm finding a jauntier, more energetic tune to it.

The two circled and dodged, slid and leapt, struck and blasted like two wild, destructive dancers. It was like nothing had ever changed, like everything was good and right with the world.

Right up until one of the larger brutes got a lucky strike on Marco's bad shoulder and the boy went down like a stack of cards. Even if he could strain the limb more than before, a direct hit was not going to do him any favors. Dazed at the sudden influx of pain and shock, he couldn't react as the hulking monster tried to smoosh him with the war hammer it'd brought with it.

But Star... Star definitely could.

She watched as Marco went down, watched as the hammer went up, watched as the boy couldn't move away in time. She knew she wouldn't be able to hit the enemy or even blast him with her wand when the few precious seconds it would take her to charge the spell would just seal Marco's fate.

She remembered what Marco said - that things happened, things you couldn't control, and that you had to accept it when it came about. In the endless time that awaited in her rushed mind, she knew what he said to be true - there's was little she could do when she had to worry about _herself_.

With that knowledge came acceptance of his fate, and with acceptance came the clear, undeniable clarity of someone who just didn't care about 'fate.' Because he was _there_. She was _there._ And since both of them were _there_ , there was only one conclusion she'd allow, regardless of her acceptance.

So she chucked her wand at the jerk's head.

Small the artifact may have been, it was still as heavy and as hard as any other (more overtly impressive) world-ending weapon, and the result was obvious - the impact of the wand on the back of its head rocketed the monster off its feet. With a great toppling, its face fell into the waiting, loving embrace of Marco's foot.

Marco grabbed at the wand and sent a look at Star. She sent back one in return. There was no need to say anything. Because this was now, and they were there with each _other_ , and that's all they needed.

...well, except for maybe the complete butt kicking of the rest of the monsters assaulting them. That... was _definitely_ something that they could accept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter of the mini-arc. Much shorter, more of an epilogue/wrap-up than full-on chapter. Hope it was still enjoyable regardless. We're on our way back to random drabbles, so that should be fun.
> 
> For the most part, the fic'll be a group of random drabbles broken up by a mini-arc now and then. Also, from the ideas I already have, you'll probably see 'dual-arcs' sprinkled in - basically a twin set of drabbles set from Marco and Star's perspectives on the same topic but come from at different ways. In any case, see ya next time, and don't be afraid to send comments!


	16. Nacho

Another Friday evening, another television-and-nacho binge.

Marco and Star found themselves in the familiar, comfortable setting of the Diaz family room. Their weekly ritual progressed as normal, a quiet and calm break in the normally hectic and haphazard 'schedule' of their lives. The only sounds between the two were the occasional laugh or comment at whatever mindless drivel they were watching and the overly loud munching of snack food.

A normal, happy end to a normal, happy day.

The two's hands would reach into the bowl stationed between them, scooping up the various nachos, cheese, and other goodies inside. Eventually, the level of food would lower to the extent that they had to start scraping the bottom to get at the last of the delectable bits. And then, finally, _it_ happened.

Their searching fingers would _just_ brush against each other as they alighted upon the last scoop of nacho and cheese. A pause, a stiffening of the spine, a catch of the breath. Marco and Star looked at each other, unable to break eye contact, unable to pay attention to anything else. Through the light skin contact, they could feel the other's trembling.

It was something that happened every week. But, to them, it was something that seemed to always feel like it was for the first time. This was something... special, pure, without equal. It was...

There was nothing that they could say, no words that could describe the complex and amorphous emotions that welled up from deep inside them at this simple, common occurrence. It would be foolish, cruel even, to even try.

And yet... nothing would happen if they did not, if they didn't try to put the situation to words. It was just something that _had_ to be done, even if it couldn't be properly explained.

Marco opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and then opened it again. His tongue briefly darted out to wet his lips. When he did talk, his tone was questioning, strained. "...Star?"

The girl's breathing had quickened, her face starting to fully flush. It took all she had to just murmur a hum of acknowledgement without succumbing to her instincts.

He was not far off himself, an increasing amount of tension in his muscles. "...same as always?" he managed to choke out.

Star's actions answered for her. She launched herself at the boy.

A split-second later, the spell she'd been charging in her wand went off at the exact moment Marco's leg swept her legs from underneath her. The room exploded into a conflagration of fiery rainbows and manic screaming.

Because how _else_ would they determine who got the last nacho?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because, yeah, like you'd think this would be WAFFy in the slightest. I've come to accept, if not long suspected, I don't 'do' schmaltz. I might try, but it ends up being stupid rather than cute; and if that's the case, I'd rather make the stupid be on purpose than by accident. Besides, it's Marco and Star - the two are adorable with their insane interactions alone.

**Author's Note:**

> A stupid drabble, hopefully the first of... some, to get my juices flowing so I'll actually get back to my more major story. I really enjoyed SVTFOE; I found it to be a cute show with colorful characters that was pretty solid in a lot of ways, even if it had a few weak points. Still, I'm looking forward to the new season next year, so perhaps this may tide me over. Also, enjoy it. It's pointless, simple fun.


End file.
